All Work and No Play
by bluecellphone
Summary: Gabriel, Mohinder, Sylar. Sylar thinks that Mohinder works too much, and is ignoring him and Gabriel. So, he instigates a plan to fix it.


"Mohinder, you work too much," Sylar says, coming up behind his lover and sinking his fingers into messy curls. His index finger catches in a tangle and he frowns; all work and no play makes Mohinder an unkempt boy.

"I have to. DNA to study, people to save." Sylar's hands are batted away as Mohinder squints at his laptop screen to regain his focus on a string of code. He'd been sitting here for what felt like days and his ass was so numb that he wasn't sure he even had one anymore. But Mohinder must keep working. These people need him.

"We're lonely," Gabriel's timid voice sounds out from behind Sylar. Mohinder tries to ignore that sad tone and fails miserably, spinning in his chair to look up at the twins. Sylar grins, Gabriel blushes.

"How can you two be lonely when you have each other?"

"He's been begging me all fucking day," Sylar growls. "He won't stop asking to be touched."

"So? Touch him."

Gabriel shifts, feeling more invisible than usual as they talk about him like he's not even there.

"You're not getting it. I would but he wants _both_ of us."

"Gabriel," Mohinder sighs, taking off his glasses and leaning to look at the hunched man hiding behind his twin. "You know my work is important. I have to finish this. I'm sorry." The answer is a meek whimper of disappointment.

"You're making him sad, Mo-hin-derrrrrr."

"Don't guilt trip me, Sy-larrrrrr," he sing-songs back.

Mohinder turns to his laptop. He wants desperately to shove them both into the bedroom and onto their large soft bed, but the moment he slacks off he could miss something important.

"Fine. Come on Gabriel."

Sylar takes his twin's hand and stomps into the bedroom. Something needs to be done about Mohinder's work habit. He closes the door until it's barely cracked open, just enough for noises to escape the room.

A light push of telekinesis has Gabriel falling backwards onto the bed with a bounce.

"Umf!"

Unbuttoning his own pants, Sylar stalks towards him in a way that makes Gabriel shiver. His skin aches suddenly; _burns_ to be touched.

The killer kneels on the mattress with a creak and slowly crawls over his trembling twin until his lips are pressed against Gabriel's ear. When he speaks, hot breath streams past the flushed skin of his neck in a whisper.

"_I want you to scream_." Sylar's hand trails down to Gabriel's jeans. "_I want you to moan_." He squeezes a rapidly hardening erection and the man beneath him gasps. "_I want you to beg for me_. _Understand_?"

"Ungh…uh-huh..."

"What? I can't hear you Gabriel." A steady elimination of clothing begins.

"Y-yes."

"Louder." Sylar unexpectedly shoves a telekinetic finger into his twin, jabbing his prostate.

"YES!"

Outside in the living room, still at his desk, Mohinder jumps at the loud cry of pleasure.

He shifts in his seat, clearing his throat and trying desperately to ignore a slew of gasping moans leaking through the door.

"_Damn you, Sylar_," he curses under his breath.

It was heard loud and clear.

Sylar strikes Gabriel's prostate again, slender fingers working the watchmaker's cock as he feeds him lines to cry out.

"SO-FUCKING-GOOD, OH _YES_ M-MOHINDER!"'

A subtle touch with his mind and Sylar has Mohinder gritting his teeth, slamming a fist onto his desk. The laptop rattles and a pen rolls to the floor.

"Stop it, Sylar!" Mohinder growls.

"N-no God, no! DON'T STOP SYLAR!"

The doctor presses his palms over his ears and wills a growing erection to fade.

In their bedroom Sylar slides a thigh between Gabriel's, naked flesh on naked flesh. He brushes fingernails up the long underside of his twin's cock, sucking gently behind his ear and whispering more lines.

"_Touch me there Mohinder, yes. More."_

"TOUCH ME THERE MOHINDER, F-FUCK YES! MORE!"

"_I need to feel you inside of me."_

"N-NEED TO FEEL YOU INSIDE ME!"

By now Gabriel's voice is strained and cracking, whimpers peppering his words like sprinkles atop Sylar's cake of temptation.

Mohinder can barely take it. He twists and wriggles in his desk chair, trying to ignore the burning erection pressing hot and heavy between his thighs.

Once he can no longer take it, he stands up and stomps to the door only to slam it open.

"WOULD YOU PLEASE-"

His words are instantly cut off by the sight before him. Breath enters his lungs in a sharp gasp and he has to cling to the door frame just to keep standing.

Sylar has Gabriel pinned to their bedroom wall, arms and legs spread out but head free to loll back and forth in complete blissful pleasure.

The killer himself is down on his knees, hands gripped tightly to Gabriel's skinny hips and mouth working quickly back and forth on his extended erection.

Mohinder's knees go weak as an invisible touch graces his cock again, imagining what those sinful lips feel like as they slide along Gabriel's sensitive flesh.

"Oh my."

Sylar grins around his twin's erection, knowing Mohinder is enjoying the show. He can _hear_ the tightening of khaki pants in that special area.

"Muh-Mohinder…" Gabriel wines, eyes rolling back in his head while Sylar devours his cock to the root.

"You…bastards…"

He hears Sylar chuckle at his petty name calling and that only makes the watchmaker shriek in pure joy with the vibrations of an evil laugh.

Mohinder lets out a soft moan when Sylar reaches up to slide a hand from the tuft of hair on his twin's chest, all the way to his taut stomach and down his long thigh. Sylar hollows his cheeks and sucks with a fury that makes Gabriel go blind.

"I'm…s-so close…"

Mohinder sees Gabriel's arms chord and tense on the wall in desperation to reach out and touch Sylar's perfectly scooped hair.

And that is when Sylar pulls away.

He releases his twin with a wet _POP_, and sits back on his heels to turn an amused face on Mohinder.

"Oh, I didn't hear you come in."

"Like hell you didn't!" Mohinder shifts uncomfortably, his hand ghosting over his pants in an attempt to create friction without looking horny. It doesn't work.

"Trying to touch yourself, doctor?"

Gabriel wines again, still pinned to the wall and needing to be finished off.

"No! I mean yes! I mean…gah!"

"Do you want to fuck him, Mohinder?"

He pants, looking from Sylar's devious face to the begging one on their wall.

"Yes."

Without further teasing the killer stands, releasing his twin and catching Gabriel before he can plummet to the floor. He leads him over to their bed and throws him less than gently down.

"Take him. He's yours."

Mohinder scowls as he feels the telekinetic force unbuttoning his pants.

"Bastard."

"Hush, you love it."

He can't argue. He does.

Patience withering, Mohinder helps Sylar's mind by tugging the khakis down and kicking them off. He shudders when the ability reaches out to fondle his groin again, quickly pulling off his bright pink shirt over a head of curls.

"I'm going to get you for this."

"I hope so."

As Mohinder kicks off his microscope-patterned boxers and struts over to the already debauched watchmaker, he feels a sharp pain in his bottom.

"Ouch!"

Sylar shrugs innocently, but Mohinder knows he's being prepped for a good fucking. He sucks seductively on two of his own fingers before lurching Gabriel's legs up and slipping them in slowly, carefully.

"Ohhhhhuunnnnngh."

Sylar moves to stand behind Mohinder, looking over his shoulder as the watchmaker writhes on their bed, pushing himself down onto the invading digits. He slides his hands down Mohinder's back before pressing lips to his long neck.

Mohinder's head lolls against Sylar's shoulder and he slips his fingers out of Gabriel, stroking his already hard cock a few times.

"Gabriel? Are you ready?"

A slew of half-moaned words comes out and Mohinder has no idea what the writhing man is saying, so he presses the head of his cock against Gabriel's entrance. The gasp of joy that sounds as a response is the only answer he needs.

In one swift motion he's pushing inside the man and Gabriel is arching off the bed to give him a better angle.

"Shit Gabriel…when was the last time we fucked? You're so tight," Mohinder breathes out. Sylar chuckles from behind him, still dragging his fingertips down the long line of Mohinder's back. He admires the soft, perfect skin that tightly covers prominent muscles.

"What, you can't remember?" Sylar asks before kissing across his shoulder.

"No!" Mohinder's answer comes out in a grunt as he thrusts into the mewling watchmaker.

"Willing to admit that you work too much then?"

"No!"

"Tsk tsk, Mohinder. We'll have to fix that."

"F-fix?" Gabriel whimpers; he loves that word. Moaning deep and loud when Mohinder rams in harder, he scrambles on the bed to pull the man in deeper.

"Yes, Gabriel. Mohinder is broken." Sylar urging the doctor down a little and lines himself up, stilling his frantic thrusts with a strong hand on Mohinder's hip. He rams into the tight, unused body to accentuate his next sentence. "We can fix him."

Mohinder cries out; his body lurching forwards and pushing deep into Gabriel.

"I'm not broken!" He growls and shoves back against Sylar, trying to regain control. But the twins have other things in mind. As soon as they're fully impaled, Sylar wraps his arms around Mohinder's chest to start driving in with fury, and Gabriel's legs connect with the killer's hips. Mohinder is essentially pinned and getting fucked so hard that he's screwing the watchmaker with no effort.

"GODS!"

Sylar's hands slide appreciatively up and down the skin of Mohinder's chest, pausing to pinch his nipples. His feet shift further apart, hips angling, and one calculated thrust later he is hitting that sweet spot deep inside.

Mohinder feels Gabriel's leg muscles cord tighter and tighter around him each time his cock is driven inside the wriggling man from Sylar's punishing jerks.

"M-Mohhhh!"

"Hate…you both!"

"Don't lie," Sylar growls into his ear, voice jarring. His mind wraps an unseen hand around Gabriel's leaking cock and squeezes once, sending his twin to the brink of orgasm. One more jab of Mohinder's cock into him and Gabriel screams; body tensing and clenching in all the right places as he comes all over his stomach.

"Ahhhh!"

Mohinder looks down to watch the emotions play over him. Pain, pleasure, then complete and utter bliss show through his scrunched face. When Gabriel's orgasm fades Sylar picks up his pace. The watchmaker continues to gasp with each slap of skin on skin that only serves to hurt him, and reflexively he tightens around Mohinder.

"Gabriellllllll…Sylarrrrrr," the doctor moans out; torn between the beautiful man below him and the sexy man behind him. He splays his hands over Gabriel's stomach and bends down, chest to chest, kissing him deeply. The lip lock quickly breaks when Sylar's new angle strikes Mohinder's prostate harder than before.

With a violent shudder Mohinder comes inside Gabriel, sticking his bottom up as his back arches. Sylar takes the euphoric offer and squeezes his ass, thrusting in roughly until his own orgasm flows out.

Coming down from their combined sexual highs, Mohinder's first thought is that he needs to get back to studying DNA strands.

_Sylar's_ first thought is whether or not it worked.

_-- Three days later --_

"Excuse me for a moment."

Mohinder stands, wide-eyed and paler than usual. He feels sick; very nauseous, and he clutches his stomach while making his way to the bathroom.

"Are you alright?" Gabriel asks.

"Fine. Just fine." A blatant lie as the door clicks shut.

"…"

"What's he doing in there, Sylar?"

"Have you forgotten our 'no listening while in the bathroom' rule? Like hell I'm tuning in now! He looked pained."

"Aren't you w-worried about him?"

"Considering the food that man ate for dinner, I'm not surprised."

"Curry with cashew coconut sauce has never made him sick before!"

"…Ew."

"What?"

"I think he's barfing."

"What?! He's th-throwing up?!"

"To say the least." Sylar's face is one of pure disgust. "And trying to be quiet about it as well."

"I should go check on him."

"No, he's embarrassed. Sit. I think he's done anyways."

Doing as he's told, Gabriel sits back down but keeps worried eyes on Sylar for the next bit of information.

"Now he's peeing."

"You're right. That rule is a good one."

"Shh…something's wrong."

"What is it?!"

"I said hush, Gabriel! His heart is erratic, I'm trying to listen."

"…"

"He's cursing."

"About what?" Gabriel whispers.

"About your ugly glasses."

"Hey! They're not ugly! M-Mohinder says they make me look intelligent and sexy and-"

Sylar closes the small space between them on the couch and claps his palm over his twin's mouth.

"I was kidding." The killer tilts his head, ear towards the bathroom door. "He's pacing."

"Pmmffnng?"

"Yes."

Gabriel slaps Sylar's hand away.

"We should really go check on him."

"Not unless you feel like dodging a fist."

"He's_ that _upset?!"

"On edge is what I'd say."

"Well then we need to go see what's wrong!" The watchmaker moves to stand again but Sylar's strong hands are on him, yanking him back down. "Oof!"

"Just a minute, he stopped."

"…"

"…"

"...Well?"

"He's breathing funny. Almost like he's gonna…" _THUD!_ "Yep."

On his feet in an instant, Sylar runs hand in hand with his twin to the bathroom, throwing the door open. What they see makes Gabriel gasp in shock.

Mohinder lays passed out on the floor, a pregnancy test a few inches from his fingers. Sylar flicks it to himself with telekinesis and after examining it he is the first to speak.

"Oh…damn."

Gabriel squeals, peering over Sylar's shoulder.

"Oh YAY!"

_-- One hour later --_

"How in the hell does something like this happen?! Did _you_ do this to me Sylar?!"

Yes.

"No!" Sylar's hands go up defensively. How was he supposed to know for sure that his new ability worked on men?

Mohinder is up pacing again.

"Bruce!" Gabriel calls out. He'd been shouting possible baby names since Mohinder had woken up. It only added to the doctor's raging panic.

"This is outrageous! We can't keep it."

"Why the hell not?! It happened for a reason!"

"Owen!"

"Sylar! I'm not carrying a fucking child! _Your_ fucking child!"

"L-language around my baby, please! Harry!"

"Yeah, how do you know it's not Gabriel's?"

"I don't know! I don't know how…where…where is it even going to come out of?!"

"Grant!"

"That should be interesting," Sylar grins.

"NOT INTERESTING! PAINFUL!"

"Ooh! Bobby!"

"Gabriel! Will you stop it?!" Mohinder is more than livid. He's confused, scared, and unnerved. The frown that crosses Gabriel's face would have usually melted him but right now, he could care less. His mind is on scientific overload trying to figure out how this is even possible.

"Mohinder." Sylar stands and grabs him by the shoulders, giving him an earnest look. "Before we jump to conclusions, let's do a real test. A blood test. You have the equipment here, it won't take long."

The doctor sighs, eyes closing as he tries to calm himself down enough to be rational.

"Fine."

There's silence as his shoulders are squeezed comfortingly by strong hands.

"…W-what do you think of Milo?"

_-- Three hours later --_

"Well? What do the results say?"

Sylar peers around Mohinder at the microscope. Gabriel is standing behind them, worrying his lip.

"Are we p-pregnant?"

Swallowing, Mohinder slowly straightens, back cracking slightly from being hunched so long.

This time, Sylar catches him as he continues into a backwards fainting dive.

_-- Three weeks later --_

"Syyyylllarrrr! Get up off your lazy ass and go buy me some ice cream! Gabriel ate it all!"

The killer groans long and loud, rolling over in their bed to face his twin.

"Gabriel, what did I tell you? Don't eat his fucking food!" he hisses. His very pregnant lover is waddling towards the bathroom to pee for the tenth time that night and he waits until the door clicks shut to continue scolding. "Mohinder had the emotions of a pregnant woman to begin with. If you keep fucking up he's going to kill you. Understand?"

Gabriel only whimpers in response, curling into a warm spot on the bed sleepily.

Mumbling to himself as he slips on his shoes and jacket, Sylar glares at the clock blaring 3:00 a.m. in large red numbers.

"Bruce Owen Harry Bobby Milo Gray-Suresh is going to turn me into an insomniac."

He sets out to the corner store for double chocolate fudge ice cream.

_-- One month after conception --_

Peter Petrelli is over for late-night coffee, casting amazed stares at Mohinder's belly and quirked brows of suspicion at Sylar and Gabriel.

At 9:33 p.m. on April the 5th, 2008, Mohinder Suresh sneezes and a toddler appears on Peter's lap.

"Holy shit!"

"Peter! L-language!"

In a flash, Gabriel is up and gasping in pure joy as he lifts their child off of Peter's lap and holds it up for a better look.

"I guess that means you're the Godfather, Peter," Sylar says, tilting his head at the little thing.

Mohinder is busy studying his now flat stomach, lurched back to reality when he hears an adorable giggle.

"I'm…so confused."

"We all are Peter." Sylar's eyes narrow as he studies the toddler, index finger tracing over its small face. Huge brown eyes stare widely back at him, a large mess of black curls identical to Mohinder's covering his head like a mop. His skin is an absolutely gorgeous milk chocolate color, a charming mix between their three flesh tones. Sylar jerks his hand back, obviously terrified when the child slaps at his finger.

"Afraid of a baby, Sylar?"

"Shut up Petrelli. Go do…Godfather things."

"What the heck does a Godfather do?"

"I dunno. Watch him while we fuck-OOF!" Sylar winces heavily when Mohinder's fist connects with his ribs.

"Don't swear around our child!"

He rubs his side with a scowl as Gabriel hands the baby off to Mohinder so he can get a better look himself.

"He has Sylar's eyebrows…your hair…what did he g-get from me?" the timid man whines, pouting.

"Those are your eyebrows too, Gabriel," Peter points out softly.

"No! His are thicker!"

"Look!" Mohinder gasps, shifting the toddler to his other arm. Its tiny hands are reaching out for Sylar's watch, eyes squinting in a fit to grab, touch, and study.

"Well what have we here?" Sylar grins. He extends his wrist so the child can fondle his timepiece.

With shaky, proud hands Gabriel takes off his black thick-rimmed glasses and slips them onto his son's face. Bruce Owen Harry Bobby Milo Gray-Suresh makes an odd noise as he drags tiny fingers over the watch in awe.

"I'll need to quit my job so we can give our undivided attention to this little miracle," Mohinder says, beaming and bouncing the child gently. Peter scratches his head, still confused but not daring to ask more questions out of fear of being stripped from his title as Godfather.

Sylar looks from Mohinder to Gabriel to the tiny toddler they're now responsible for, and smiles.

Mission complete.

* * *

I hope you loved it Kat! Happy Birthday! Also, it was a magical baby so I magically made the pregnancy last one month. Because I can!! Hope you guys are amused! twitches from all the crack and skips away


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